


What You Need

by romanticalgirl



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3740023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian knows what Mickey wants and needs. Even if there's no way in hell Mickey will admit it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fangirlscribbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlscribbles/gifts).



Ian smiles as Mickey comes into the Kash and Grab, heading back to where Ian’s sitting in the loading area. “Hey, Mick.” Mickey kicks the box Ian’s sitting on, sending Ian sprawling onto the floor. “What the fuck?”

Mickey squats down in front of Ian, his face dark and angry. “What the fuck is right.” He unwinds his scarf. Ian can’t help smiling at the red-purple bruise at the base of Mickey’s throat. Mickey points to it. “The fuck is this?”

“A...hickey?”

Mickey looks upward like he’s looking for strength or calm. When his eyes fall back to Ian, it’s clear he didn’t find it. “I know it’s a fucking hickey, you stupid shit.”

Ian reaches out and touches it, pressing lightly. Mickey’s eyelashes flutter, but he manages to keep his eyes open.

“Why the _fuck_ do I have a hickey?”

“Because I sucked on your neck?”

“I swear I’m gonna fucking kill you. Leave a red-haired smear on the fucking floor.” He shifts his weight back like he’s going to punch Ian. 

“Hey!” Ian holds up his hands in surrender. “You didn’t seem to mind when I was doing it!”

“I’ve got to explain this shit, asshole. You think my dad or my brothers let this shit slide?”

“So tell them one of the girls you fuck did it.” Ian tries his best to keep the emotion out of his voice – the anger, the resentment, the hurt. He’s pretty sure he fails miserably.

“What? So they can think I’m some little bitch? Think I let them put their mouth on anything but my dick? Think I’m some fucking pussy?”

“It’s a fucking hickey!” Ian gets to his feet, purposely knocking into Mickey. Mickey manages to keep his feet, straightening up. “It was a heat of the moment, sucking on your neck, making you fucking moan hickey!”

“It’s a fucking mark!”

Ian starts to yell until he realizes what’s really bothering Mickey. His eyes widen and he smiles. “You like it.”

Mickey’s face suffuses with red. “Fuck off.”

“Do you press on it?” Ian’s voice isn’t exactly sexy, since he still sounds like a little kid to his own ears, but Mickey’s anger seems to change to something else. “Do you remember my mouth on you?”

“Fuck you, Gallagher. I’m not some fucking pussy.”

“Do you think about me sucking on your neck? Your chest? Your thighs? Sucking your dick? Do you jerk off thinking about my mouth on you?”

Ian doesn’t see the punch coming, isn’t braced for it. He falls back against the metal door. He tastes blood and swallows it, knowing he’ll have to mop the floor if he spits it out.

“I don’t fucking think about you.”

“Unless my dick’s in your ass?” Ian snarls the words, angry now. Hurt still. 

“Hell, half the time, I don’t even think about you then.”

Ian punches Mickey on instinct, and just like that they’re fighting. Hard punches and grunts, neither of them saying anything. They’re good at physical. It’s easier than words, Ian knows. Words can be so much fucking trouble. 

Mickey hits Ian hard enough that he falls on the ground, and Mickey follows him down, straddling Ian and punching him hard. Ian puts his arms up to defend himself when Mickey just stops, just like their first time. Both of them are breathing hard, and Ian turns his head and coughs, spitting blood. Mickey stays on top of him, and Ian can feel the curve of Mickey’s dick pressed against the hardness of his own.

“Bullshit you don’t think about me.” Ian pants and shove Mickey off of him, hand on Mickey’s throat as he presses him against the wall. “I’m _all_ you fucking think about.”

Mickey bats Ian’s hand away and gets to his feet. “Fuck you. And fuck this.”

Ian watches him walk out and curses under his breath before getting to his feet and going to get the mop.

**

Kash flips out when he comes downstairs and sees Ian. “What the fuck happened?”

“Got in a fight at school.”

“Who did this to you?”

“Kash. It’s fine.” Ian moves away from the gentle touch of Kash’s hand, exaggerating his wince as if it hurts, rather than deal with the confusion and pain in Kash’s eyes. “I’m fine. I promise. I gave as good as I got.”

Kash reaches toward him again, but stops before he touches him. “Okay, okay. Go clean up.”

Ian goes into the bathroom and turns on the water in the sink, scooping it up and rubbing it over his face. It does hurt, so he hadn’t exactly been lying to Kash, but since Mickey, being Kash alone or _alone_ had been hard. 

Fucking Mickey. It was one fucking hickey. He’d moaned when Ian’s teeth and mouth had moved over him. He’d wanted it.

“Kash?” Ian comes back into the store. “Feeling a little worse than I thought. You okay if I bail early?”

“Linda’s taking the boys to her mom’s tonight. I thought...” Kash shakes his head. “Of course. Should be a slow night.”

“Thanks. I’ll make the hours up.” Ian grabs his jacket and leaves quickly, heading over to Mickey’s house. He knocks on the door, brain scrambling for a reason to be there if anyone else answers. He can fall back on visiting Mandy, assuming she’s home.

The door swings open and Mickey just stands there, staring at Ian. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Mickey’s got a black eye, the skin around it puffy and swollen. His lower lip is swollen as well. Ian licks his own lower lip as he looks at Mickey’s, tongue rubbing against the split skin. Mickey’s eyes follow Ian’s tongue for a moment before he looks up at Ian. “You gone fucking mute? ‘Cause you ain’t never shut up before.”

Mickey’s got his shirt off, so Ian knows he’s alone. He’s got a light sheen of sweat on his skin, and he smells musky like he was working out. “You liked it.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Again?”

“You like it. You want me to mark you.” Ian pushes past Mickey into the house. When he looks back, Mickey’s brow is furrowed as he shuts the door.

“No. It’s cool. Come the fuck on in.” Mickey stares at Ian like he’s waiting for an explanation or wondering how Ian got so stupid.

“You like it. You want it. But we can’t.” Ian nods as if he’s solved everything. He turns on his heel and heads for Mickey’s bedroom.

“Hey! Hey! What the fuck, Gallagher?” Mickey follows behind him, grabbing Ian’s arm. “You need to get the fuck out of here.”

Ian shakes off Mickey’s arm and shuts the bedroom door. “I’m not going to get in a fight with you every time you want a bruise to remind you of me. Ian drags his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. “Get your fucking clothes off.”

“No _fucking_ way.”

Ian undoes his jeans and shoves them to the floor. Mickey stares at him and Ian just waits. A few seconds later, Mickey shoves his pants off and Ian waits until they’re on the floor before he pushes Mickey down onto the bed and climbs on top of him, straddling him. Ian’s never really seen Mickey completely naked and he’s gorgeous. He has scars and marks on his skin, and his stomach is slightly soft, but Ian curbs the impulse to bit it.

“You’re mine.”

“Fuck you.” Mickey bucks his hips up, trying to get Ian off of him. Ian tightens his legs, knees digging into Mickey’s thighs.

“Can’t leave marks, but I can mark you.” Ian starts stroking his own cock, watching Mickey as he watches Ian’s hand. “You know what cats do to mark their territory?”

“You piss on me, you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.”

“Not gonna piss on you, Mickey.” There must be something in Ian’s voice that makes Mickey look up, meet his eyes. “I’m going to jerk myself off and come all over you. Come on your stomach. Come all over your dick. Come on your chest. On your throat. Turn you over and come all over your ass.” Mickey’s breath hitches and Ian doesn’t hold back his dirty, hungry smile. “Going to let you suck me and then I’m gonna pull out and come all over your wet, slick lips. Gonna come in your face and watch you lick it off.”

“Christ.” Mickey’s voice is hoarse and his eyes are nearly black, pupils blown wide. 

Ian leans forward, still stroking himself, letting his knuckles graze Mickey’s stomach. “I’m gonna do that, and you’re gonna fucking love it.”

Mickey nods wordlessly and Ian scrapes his teeth across the curve of Mickey’s jaw before pulling away, sitting up again. 

“Knew it.” Ian’s own voice is low and rough, and he can’t look away from Mickey’s wet, parted lips and the way his tongue keeps darting out, the way his teeth sink into the swollen, tender flesh. Ian _wants_ that mouth. He knows he’s not going to get it, but he wants it. And he’s going to get the next best thing. “Your cock. Your ass. Belong to me, Mickey. You know they do.” 

Ian rolls his hips so his dick and balls slide against Mickey’s cock. Ian’s not completely sure where his confidence is coming from, where the words and the absolute certainty that he’s _right_ stem from, but Mickey’s response is heady. 

“You want my mouth and my teeth and my tongue all over you. Desperate for them.” Ian moves a little higher, letting Mickey’s dick slide against his ass. Mickey’s eyes roll back and Ian guides his dick to Mickey’s stomach, leaving a trail of pre-come on his skin. “You want to let everyone know that I fucking own you. Own you the way I own your ass.”

“I-Ia-...” 

“Shut up, Mickey. Shut up and fucking take it. Gonna come all over that pretty face. Come all over those pretty lips and your going to lick it up and swallow it down. Won’t kiss me but you’ll swallow me, because you want me inside you. Want my come in your mouth, in your ass. Want it all over you.”

Ian had talked dirty for Kash a little, but it was nothing like this. It felt silly and unreal, but this. This feels real. This is real. This is Mickey, pinned beneath him, looking up at him like Ian does own him. Looking at him like every front and every wall, every facade is stripped away. Looking at him like Ian’s flayed him alive and exposed every nerve ending. 

Ian rubs his dick on Mickey’s jaw, leaking against his skin. When he pulls it back, there’s a slick shiny line from his chin to the curve of his jaw and Ian leans down and licks it. Mickey’s whole body jerks and his breath shakes out of him. Ian’s pretty sure he’s never been this turned on in his life.

“Too bad I can’t kiss you, Mickey. Can’t fuck this into your mouth.”

“Ian. Fuck.” 

Raw surrender. The temptation to kiss him is strong, but this isn’t how Ian wants it to happen. He wants Mickey to _want_ it. Need it. Want him, not his dick. “You want something, Mick?”

Mickey’s mouth is open and he’s breathing hard through it. Ian thinks about shoving his cock in Mickey’s throat, but jerking himself off, not letting Mickey know when he’s close so he can’t expect, can’t anticipate is making Ian’s thighs tight, making his balls ache. 

“Should come all over this hickey. Suck it clean just to show you that I do what I want to you.” Ian won’t. He’ll respect Mickey’s rules, because he doesn’t want Mickey to walk away. But the abandon in Mickey’s eyes makes Ian think he could get away with it. Get away with anything.

That thought is enough to push him over the edge, and his come falls on Mickey’s parted lips, his cheeks, his nose. Ian shifts up higher on his knees and pumps his cock, jerking the last bit into Mickey’s open mouth. Mickey swallows and Ian watches his throat. 

“You’re a mess,” Ian purrs. He slides a finger through the come on Mickey’s cheek and rubs it over Mickey’s lips. Mickey responds like he always does and licks them, doing it again and again, trying to get Ian’s come in his mouth. Ian’s dick twitches, and he wishes he could go again. Wishes he could paint Mickey with his come. He swipes the few drops off Mickey’s nose and puts his finger in his own mouth. 

He makes a show of using his tongue, sucking it off loud and wet and sloppy. He looks down at Mickey and smiles. “You want it? Want more?”

Mickey shivers and his hands are shaking as he rubs Ian’s thighs. Ian reaches back and starts stroking Mickey, fast and tight. Mickey’s eyes water and he swallows sound after sound as Ian tries to wrench them out of him. Ian can feel Mickey’s dick pulse and he presses his hand over the head, letting Mickey’s come drench his palm and seep between his fingers.

“Want more, Mick?” He brings his hand around and shoves three fingers in Mickey’s mouth, fucking it. Mickey works between sucking Ian’s fingers and trying to lick his palm and tears are leaking down his flushed face. Ian leans down, words between them quiet and hot. “You’re my bitch, Mickey. My cock-slut. You’re going to suck down my come whenever I want.”

Mickey would probably deny that he nods, but Ian knows he does. Ian eases off of him and wipes his wet hand on Mickey’s sheet. Mickey scrubs a hand over his face, smearing the remains of Ian’s come across his cheeks. 

Ian pulls his jeans on and then his shirt, walking toward the door as he does up his pants. Mickey exhales roughly and Ian looks back. “Busy tomorrow?”

This time Mickey wipes his face and licks his palm. “Guess I am now.”


End file.
